TMI Tuesday

God-dammit.

So… my name is Mendicatus and I do memes. There. I’ve said it. Pah. I’ll admit defeat.

I’m doing this one mainly for the bonus question, but they’re all interesting ones.

1. Have you ever sent or received a sext message?

Yes. Lots. I have an on-going textual affair with a gorgeous woman with whom I have singularly failed to meet in person over the course of six years. We go through spats of texting, sending 30 or 40 a day and then not communicating for days or weeks. There used to be a strongly sexual slant to them, but in the last year they have eased off a little and are often just affectionate now.

Which I hate.

I much prefer constant filth arriving and departing my phone and email inbox.

2. Have you ever made or received a booty call?

No. But it sounds like an excellent facility I would very much like to have available. How do I go about setting one up – are they available through the O2 ‘Treats’ promotion? Damn – I’m with another carrier.

It does sound like something that would be mutually beneficial and satifying, though, a bit like a sort of ‘fuck-buddy hotline’. At the moment, if (when) I get urges during my working day I’m forced to harass people with lewd emails, and I’m sure that some members of my contact list feel harassed or beseiged by my constant intimate ravings.

3. Have you ever added or edited a word/entry to Wikipedia or Urban Dictionary or any other online reference?

I have made significant additions to Wikipedia entries, but not to any others. I wouldn’t consider myself streetwise enough to contribute to the urban dictionary, I’m too much of a geek. Mind you, I did go through a 2-3 month phase of contributing to the English Language usage FAQ and forums – but eventually the disparaging effects of constant illiteracy became too much, so I had to give it up for the sake of my grammatical sanity.

4. At what age did you have your first consensual sexual experience?

This is a tricky one. I suppose my first sexual experience was when I was about 11, when I and a couple of my mates discovered pornography and wanking. It sounds bizarre, 3 early teenage lads beating themselves off (individually, I should make clear) over a discovered stash of jazz mags, but it seemed perfectly reasonable at the time. I almost cringe when I think about it now, but I suppose it was something that contributed to my lack of inhibitions. I like to think of it as a pre-teen warm-up for my first gang-bang (which is still in the planning stage).

After that, my first sexual encounter was my (failed) attempt to lose my virginity when I was 18 (see previous TMI).

5. What has been the greatest age difference between you a consensual sexual partner?

Probably no more than 5-6 years in either direction. I’ve not really experienced sex with significantly older or younger woman. I’d like to change that though – on both counts.

Bonus (as in optional): Why do you blog?

The million-doller question.

I think there’s a few reasons.

Firstly, validation – because I like to share my thoughts with women (I know I have the odd male reader, but I couldn’t really give a stuff about them…!). I like to hear women’s responses to my thoughts, my fantasies, my desires. I guess having been in a marriage where wanking over pictures of Playboy models is considered perverted, I needed to hear from somebody other than the voice in my head that my fantasies weren’t sick or perverse, and are maybe in tune with what other women get turned on by.

Second, because I love to write. All of the fantasies tagged ‘past life’ were written just for me, long before I considered a blog. The writing, particularly the first-person pieces, come direct from my head and are what I dream and fantasise about, and what I get off to. Writing turns me on, but I’ve found that the thought of women reading my deepest, filthiest fantasies takes it a level further. Occasionally I’ll get an email, comment or instant message from a lady telling me how wet she was while reading, or how she touched herself and came as she read my words, and that is an awesome feeling. I guess, in a way, I love to turn women on; this is a way of doing it without using my hands or tongue.

And lastly, I’d be lying if I denied that I hope this blog will be the conduit through which I find the woman (or women…) with whom I’ll embark on a physical affair. I toyed with Craigslist etc, but got sick and tired of the dead-ends and spam it led to. Whereas I’d like to think I’ve put enough of myself on show here that somebody looking for something similar will have their interest piqued. For me, the logistics of an affair would be complicated, and opportunity scarce, but I figure that if I make enough girls wet with my words, at least one or two will want to see what I can do with my tongue or my fingers… The only caveat to that premise is that the blogging community is tiny in the UK, and transatlantic booty-calls have a low fulfillment rate!!

I Want #21

I want to answer the door, and beckon you in to the dusky twighlight of my abode.

I want to usher you over to a big leather armchair and ease you down into it. You sit back, and survey your surroundings – lamps making soft pools of dim light over undefinable shapes, deep black shadows hiding details in the corners. Easy music floats over your ears, almost inaudible, but enough to hide the silence. The curtains are drawn apart, and you face the sparkling lights of the city below.

I want to fix you a drink, a tall cool glass of champagne, bubbles crawling up the fluted side and bursting in a minute firework display just above the rim. As you put it to your lips, the bubbles tickle your nose gently, and the drink oozes down your throat, filling you with fruity sweetness.

I want to stand behind you, gently massaging and rubbing your shoulders, my hands gentle but firm, easing the tension out of your neck, fingers and thumbs easing through your knape-hair and rubbing out the knots from your muscles.

I want to unbutton and slip off my shirt, the cool air playing across my skin as I walk around in front of you and drop a cushion on the floor in front of your feet. I take the champagne from your hand, and place it on the table next to you.

I want to slip my fingers onto your feet, lightly brushing your skin with my fingertips, easing them around your heel and sliding up the back of your calves, caressing and molding the muscles in my palms, twisting and turning your firm flesh.

I want to move my fingers to your knees, where the hem of your cotton dress lies, gently sliding my fingers up your thighs, easing your knees apart, opening your thighs to me and drawing you forward in the chair. I want to drag your skirts back to your hips, until I can see the perfect white triangle of your cotton panties lit up from the window.

I want to drip kisses onto your knees and your thighs, my mouth trailing warm lip-prints all the way to your hips, my warm breath fluttering under your bunched dress, caressing the goosebumps on your skin.

I want to trail my fingers to the edge of your panties, and trace the line where they meet your skin, following it in the curve around your thigh and then trailing across the soft whiteness of the cotton, just sensing the soft springiness of your pussy beneath. I want to feel your involuntary movement as your hips push forward, trying to make the touch of my fingertips on your mound more than just a light brush. We play this game a few times, my fingers caressing your pussy through your pure white knickers, your hips rising to meet my touch, my fingers drawing away. Each time, you sink lower into the chair, and your thighs slip past me on either side, until you are slouched, hips at the edge of the seat, watching my next move.

I want to slide my palms up your hips, flat against your skin, until my fingers find what they seek, hooking into the loose elastic around the waistband of your panties. I want to drag them down, the tiniest of movement from your hips lifting to release your undergarments, and your knees closing together – temporarily – as I slip your knickers down over your shins and pluck them from your feet. I want to pause, kneeling before you as you watch me, and push your panties against my face, breathing deeply and savouring your musky, sexy smell, my mouth beginning to water as I sense your taste for the first time.

I want to push your knees apart again, spreading your legs wide open, presenting your flower to me, your soft shaved mound and your plump pink lips glistening in the dim light. You drag your dress up your belly, revealing your navel to me, showing me everything, and I lick my lips in anticipation.

I want my mouth to meet your skin, kissing you slowly and gently, on your hips, your thighs and your navel. I kiss in wide circles, with each loop getting closer to your pussy, trailing my tongue from each kiss and leaving little glistening prints in its wake. As my circles get smaller and tighter I sense tiny – almost imperceptible – shivers on your skin, each touch firing off little electric shocks deep within your flesh, and then…

I want to trail my tongue across your soft mons, your soft pussy rising instinctively to meet me, my thick muscle gliding down onto your cleft, brushing the hood of your clit before plunging deep between your labia, your sweet nectar oozing across my tongue and running into my mouth, as I push my tip deep into your wet slit. You catch your breath, the suddenness of my tongue deep in your cunt forcing a moan from between your lips. As my mouth begins to work itself in and around your engorged lips, coating my lips and chin with your sticky honey, you begin to writhe and sqirm.

I want you to lift your knees up and rest them on my shoulders, your heels digging into my back, opening yourself wide for me and forcing my face deeper between your thighs, my eager tongue further into your sopping cunt. Your hands are on your breasts now, and as I lick and flick deep into you, you pull the thin straps of your summer dress and flimsy bra from your shoulders, exposing your breast and tweaking and twisting your nipple with your own fingers. As my tongue darts to your hood, the thick hot muscle working its tip in and flicking your clit you cry out again, your hips bucking as I struggle to hold you in place.

I want to feel my cock straining inside my trousers, pulsing and beating, rock-hard but ignored as I fuck you with my mouth. I want to slip my hand between your legs and slide my digits into you, finger-fucking you as my tongue flicks and slips across your pink flesh. I can feel you opening up now, your petals unfurling as I slide one, two, then three fingers deep into your sex, feeling out your most sensitive spots and working against your clenching muscles.

I want to look up across your stomach, taking in the most beautiful of views, my favourite place to be… I want to see the creamy white mound of your pussy, inches from my mouth, the soft rolling plain of your navel, stretching away from me, and the peaks of your breasts, nipples hard and pink, the valley between them glinting with your aroused perspiration. The whole landscape undulates as you writhe and shudder beneath my mouth.

I want to flick and lick and probe and kiss, thrusting my fingers ever deeper into you as I feel the crescendo rise from within your very core. I want to see you bite hard down on your lip as your hips buck and roll and twist in my grip as I fuck you harder, deeper, faster with my hands, my mouth, my tongue. I want to feel your thighs shudder as the waves of pleasure course through them, gripping my neck and back, forcing my face harder between your legs, my urgent tongue unstoppable as it flutters over your deepest intimacy.

I want to hear you cry out, “Yes, yesss, YES!” as your orgasm hits you, wave after wave crashing over you from head to toe, your entire body spasming in my hands, like a woman possessed, the demon deep with your darkest place crashing around your muscles as you let go of all reality and fade in and out of blissful nirvana.

I want to hear your choking, gasping desperate breaths, as your splutter for air and convulse in my hands. My tongue flicks and thrusts, each touch throwing you this way and that, until you can’t take any more and push my head away from your throbbing cunt.

I want to sit back on my haunches, and watch you slump, sated, exhausted, breathing in shallow irregular gasps, chest rising and falling, your nipples hard and pert, wobbling as you begin to giggle.

I want to smile at you, seeing your face light up, knowing what I have just given you, grinning as I lick your juices from my chin, my hands gently caressing your hips, sending tiny little aftershocks through your limp body.

I want to devour you.

HNT #21

This is me in the shower.

The shower was running at this point, and I was covered in suds, but annoyingly you can’t really see. But you can tell my chest hair isn’t fluffy.

To do it properly I’d really need a waterproof cameraphone… I nearly dropped this one in the process, which could have been expensive (and difficult, since my phone holds many secrets…).

I could have done with somebody to scrub my back while I was there. And that is definitely a euphamism.

TMI Tuesday

I’m thinking of adding a new post category, called I Don’t Do Memes, under which I can file all my meme posts.

But anyway….

1. Ever Googled a date, a potential date or an ex?

Definitely. I google everyone – some would say I’m a bit of an internet addict (for example, the first thing I do after my alarm goes off at 4:45am each day is to check my gmail account). So I use the web for research and info all the time, particularly as I always have google available on my ‘phone.

I’ve not really googled any potential dates, although that probably says more about my lack of potential dates than any lack of enthusiasm to research them. I often look up girls who email me on Facebook (using their email address, since most aren’t using their real names…). It’s nothing nefarious though, I just like to see a picture if there is one available – I’m quite visual.

I’ve googled every one of my ex-girlfriends, with varying degrees of success; my first girlfriend (see previous TMI) is nowhere to be found, despite having done an IT degree, and I’d love to catch up with her. At the other end of the scale is the girl I dated at Uni who googled and found me, and we’ve met up a couple of times in secret.

There is one girl I saw for about 8 months for whom searching wasn’t an option – I can’t remember her surname….

2. Do you gossip?

Sometimes. I mostly listen to gossip, rather than spread it, but it depends on the context. I’m very active in the office rumour-mill, but then working for a financial institution right now means there’s plenty of chat about what’s going on.

On a more personal level I don’t really gossip – I’m really just not that bothered by who’s doing what with whom unless I’m directly involved.

3. How many people do you completely trust?

There is nobody that I trust completely.

Why? Well, I have many things in my head and heart which make me who I am, and I don’t want to share everything with anybody. I often feel like a large portion of my life is not my own, so I vigorously defend the parts that I do have control over. I let out small drips of myself to others, sharing them around evenly between my wife, friends, family, bloggers, work colleagues, etc, but nobody is allowed access to the whole bottle.

It’s maybe fear of opening up too much and then being vulnerable, but it’s also because I’ve been badly let down by friends and family in the past so don’t want to make myself vulnerable to that again. I also like to keep some aces in the hand, so-to-speak – if people don’t know 100% of what I’m doing or thinking, where I am, or what I want, then I have an opportunity to use that to my advantage. Again, it sounds scheming or nefarious, but it’s more just a case of wanting to have options available.

Oh, and there is one other reason. I have thoughts which are dark and slightly worrying; to trust somebody might mean to share them, and to do that would mean admitting they’re real. So best to push them back under the surface and pretend they’re not in my head.

4. Have you ever had sex in car?

Gosh. This all seems frivolous after the psychological depths of Q3.

No, I haven’t. Not full penetrative sex, anyway. I’ve received (and given) oral in a car, the former while I as driving, the latter while I was parked up safely.

I’d like to, though, even if it would be a bit awkward, arms and legs everywhere and very cramped. I’d hope the woman who picks me up and drives me to some deserted multi-storey car park for hot sex will have something large like a Range Rover so it’s at least slightly practical.

5. What is your best flirting technique: innuendo, telling a dirty joke, talking about sex life, or physical contact?

Innuendo, definitely. If I wasn’t married I’d be more direct, but since I am it’s best to start gently and work up to the point where it’s unmistakably flirting from both sides. That way, if I read the signs wrong I can put it down to my gregarious personality and my usual inability to have my mouth open without inserting my foot in it.

I’m particularly poor at initiating physical contact for the same reasons, and also because I am always worried about over-stepping the mark. One of the reasons I like the idea of meeting somebody through this sort of medium/environment is that there would be no doubt at all of either side’s intentions, so the silly games and social ettiquettes of ‘real’ dating could be glossed over, allowing us to get down to the more interesting business of tongues, skin and wandering fingers much sooner.

Bonus (as in optional): How many times is the most you have ever had sex in a 24 hour period?

I remember years ago after a girlfriend came back from a 8-week summer holiday we barely left the room for 2 days. I’m pretty sure we commented on the fact that we’d made double-figures in a day. However, this was over 15 years ago, so I could be remembering with rose-tinted glasses.

In the last few years I’ve averaged about 0.00125 x per day.

Study Break

I knocked on the door.

I could hear the TV in the background, and the sound of feet padding across the hall, and then the catch on the door clicked.

The girl who opened the door was not one I’d met before. She a little shorter than me, with blonde shoulder-length hair and a very pretty, young face – striking eyes, and full red lips, despite her obviously wearing no make-up. She wore a pink satin nightdress – although it was probably better described as a slip – with thin string straps over the shoulder and black lace trim that wandered across her chest. On her feet she had a pair of cheap white fluffy slippers, decorated with a spray of bright pink feathers that had seen better days.

“Hi, sorry Jo’s not here – she had to nip over and see her tutor.”, she said, smiling broadly. “She said she’d be about an hour.”

“Ah…”, I said, still looking looking her up and down. One of her thin straps had fallen off her shoulder, and she pushed it back up.

I turned to go. “I’d better head off…”, but she cut me off abruptly. “You can wait if you like. The kettle’s on..?” She was twisting her hair in her fingers. “Great”, I replied – trying to sound aloof – and followed her into the flat.

The lounge was untidy, magazines scattered around, textbooks on the floor and various items of women’s clothing draped on the various bits of furniture. She hurriedly shoved a few bits aside and patted the sofa, motioning me to take a seat.

“I’m Liz”, she said, as she made the tea. “I only moved in a couple of weeks ago but Jo’s told me all about you.”

“Nothing bad, I hope”, I joked, wondering what she’d been told.

“Oh no”, she fired back, “all of it was very good….” and then stopped. Her cheeks reddened slightly, and she changed the subject quickly. “Sorry about the mess – this place is such a tip.”

I took the mug as she passed it to me, and watched her walk past. The pink satin came midway down her thighs, and floated up slightly as she walked. She kicked off her slippers and sat on the armchair opposite me, folding her legs underneath her, and lifting the string-strap back onto her shoulder again. The hem of her nightdress rode up her hips, but she didn’t pull it down. From my seat directly opposite I could see the black triangle of her knickers, and I was sure she knew it. I could feel myself getting hard, my jeans becoming uncomfortable.

“It must be a nightmare with four girls living together… getting ready to go out must be chaos?”.

“Yes, it can be”, she said, sipping her tea. “But the other two are away for the week so I’m making the most of it. I’m going to have a shower with hot water this morning!”

We made smalltalk for a few more minutes, and she swigged the last of her drink. “I think I’ll go and take advantage of that hot water… will you be okay watching TV until Jo gets back?”

I nodded, and as she got up off the chair the static kept her slip bunched around her hips. For a second she was stood right in front of me, with her black lace boyshorts exposed. I turned away as she pulled the hem down to cover herself up. “I’m sorry”, she said, reddening again, “this nighty is a bit clingy”.

“So I see”, I responded, glancing at her chest. Her nipples we hard pushing at the silky fabric, two little bumps just below the lace. “You shouldn’t be looking!” she laughed, pausing so I could do exactly that, before heading off to her bedroom. “In that outfit it’s difficult not to!” I called behind her, and heard her giggle.

I watched TV for a bit, finished my tea, and my phone buzzed. It was a text from Jane – the tutor was delayed so she was going to be quite a while still. I decided I wouldn’t hang about. I put my tea on the counter and headed down the hall to the room Liz had disappeared into. I knocked gently on the door.

“Come in!”, she called out, and I pushed the door open. She was standing in front of the wardrobe, rifling through clothes. A few garments were draped over the chair, still on hangers. “I’m still deciding what to wear… it’s awful, isn’t it?” she said, without turning around.

“I just heard from Jo, she’s going to be ages so I think I’ll head off and come back later”, I said. I glanced to my side and noticed a pair of black lace panties on the bed, exactly like the ones I’d glimpsed earlier.

“Oh”, she exclaimed. “That’s a shame. But don’t go – you can help me decide what to wear!”. She turned to face me, playing with her hair again. I smiled, blatantly looking her up and down; “it looks to me like you have it just right already…”. I didn’t move to the door.

“You like this?”, she asked, looking down at herself. “Oooh… good choice. It’s my favourite. It feels so lovely against my skin.” She paused, eyes sparkling, and walked towards me. “And yours too no doubt.”

I stepped forward, closing the gap between us, and reached out to her hip, my fingers trailing over the soft pink satin. “It feels good”, I breathed, and pushed my lips onto hers. Straight away her tongue was in my mouth and as she draped her arms around me she pulled me close to her, crushing my lips on hers and filling my nostrils with the scent of her perfume. As my hands wandered over her body, slipping across the silk, I pushed my hips against her, the hard bulge in my trousers pressed against her soft mound. My hands slipped around behind her, and as I slipped the nightdress up over her naked bottom, I squeezed hard, lifting her onto her tiptoes and grinding her navel against my thick erection. “Mmmmm”, she groaned, hot breath in my face as she mirrored the pressure pulling her lips harder onto mine.

She broke the kiss, and grabbed my t-shirt, pulling it up over my head, throwing it on the floor. Her hands dropped straight to my chest, fingers running through my hair, feeling my muscles spasm with her touch. As she traced the line down over my belly to the clasp of her belt she was giggling, and as she laughed her firm round breasts bounced inside her nighty.

Her strap fell off her shoulder, and this time she pulled it down, dragging the flimsy lace off her breast and throwing her shoulder back. I dropped my head, my lips kissing down her neck, trailing over her clavicle and across her silky firm flesh, my tongue running around her areola, making her squeal as I gripped her hard pink nipple between my teeth. Her nails dragged across my back, scratching me and digging into my flesh with each move of my tongue on her roseate peak. I cupped her breast in my hand, squeezing it as I licked and flicked her bud, making her squirm and wriggle.

Her finger hooked into the waistband of my trousers. “I want these off”, she requested, her finger running over the thick bulge in my jeans. I flipped open my belt and slipped it through the buckle – she already had my zip down and was reaching inside my trousers, slipping her fingers around my cock eagerly, easing me out even while I unbuttoned and pushed down my jeans.

“Oh, I love cock”, she breathed, looking down at my fat erection in her hand. She began to stroke it back and forth, rolling my foreskin back and spreading the pre-come across my glans. I slipped my fingers down over her belly, under her nightdress, and across her navel. Sure enough, her panties were lying on the bed, and she was wearing nothing beneath the pink satin. And she was shaved bare – her pussy soft and smooth to the touch as my fingers slipped over it, and down between her legs.

She began to wank me, stroking my cock with one hand and cupping my balls in the other, as I slipped my fingers between her lips and pushed up into her wet slit. “Oh, fuck”, she moaned, gripping me tighter “oooo… yes please”. As I fingered her faster and faster, she began to breathe more quickly.

“On your knees”, I commanded, and she dropped onto the floor, kneeling on the soft carpet. “Take my cock in your mouth and suck it until I come. If you do it right, and swallow it all down, I’ll fuck you.”

“Oh… yes pleease” she repeated, nodding and taking my cock in her mouth. She began slowly, working her lips and tongue around the tip, taking me deeper into her mouth with each stroke. I put my hands on her head, gripping her hair, and easing my shaft back and forth between her lips. “Mmmmmph” she moaned, and I could feel her nod slightly. “You like it when I force you to suck my cock?” I asked, and she nodded and moaned again.

“Soo… touch your pussy while I fuck your mouth”, I hissed, “and imagine how good it will feel when I fill you with my cock”. She moaned again, eagerly, and dropped her hand between her legs as her tongue flicked and darted over the surface of my hard flesh. I gripped her harder, tangled hair scrunched up in my fists, and pushed her head back and forward more quickly, roughly fucking her mouth as she rubbed herself. I could feel my orgasm building, as my balls twisted and rolled in their sack, bumping against her chin. “Can you feel it?” I said, as my stomach started to twist and flip. She nodded again, and let out a sigh, moaning as my cock slid deep into the back of her throat. Her hands went to my hips, pulling me deeper, and she gagged slightly on my cock head.

“Nnnnngh” I groaned, through gritted teeth as my hot seed exploded into her mouth. Her warm breath hit my navel as I came, thick streams of sticky come shooting across her tongue and down her throat. She pulled my hips towards her and thrust my cock deep into the back of her throat as the last spurts of creamy sticky come shot from my throbbing tip.

“Goood”, I sighed, looking at her work her tongue over my sticky length. She was licking and sucking, slurping every last blob of my seed from my pulsing cock, sending shivers and jolts through me as she ran the pointed tip of her tongue carefully around the roll of foreskin at the base of my glans. She smacked her lips with each lick, showing me how much she enjoyed tasting me.

“Good girl”, I praised, stroking her hair as she finished licking me clean. “I think you’ve definitely earned my cock. Get on the bed.”

She got up, smiling, and lay back on her bed amongst the detritus, pushing a couple of textbooks and some clothes aside. As she lay back, her blonde hair scattered messily around her head, she idly slid her hand down over her belly to her navel, where I could see the soft hump of her mons outlined under the pink satin that ended just a couple of inches below it. She slowly drew her fingers back, pulling up the hem to reveal her bare pussy, and spreading her legs wide for me to see her flower in its full pink engorged beauty. Her other hand was on her exposed breast, slowly making circles around her nipple with her fingers. She was biting her lip innocently, but her eyes had a devilish twinkle.

“Will you please fuck me now? I want you so badly…”.

I slipped the nightdress further up her body, uncovering her belly, and began to kiss her navel as my fingers slipped over her pink engorged lips. My touch immediately caused her to writhe, lifting her hips off the bed to force my fingers deeper into her. As my lips moved down over the soft smooth shaved skin of her pussy, my tongue left a shiny trail that glinted in the light. She’d lifted her arse clear off the bed and I cupped it in my hands as I burried my face in her pussy, licking and slurping at her juices and soft flesh. She tasted of sex, sweet and musky, I lapped up her nectar, working my tongue deep between her labia.

She began to writhe, bucking and swaying her hips in my hands as I licked and flicked her. When my tongue-tip connected with her clitoris a spasm jolted down through her body, causing her to cry out. I slipped two digits into her, then three, and began to slowly finger-fuck her as she twisted and moaned, shuddering with each harder push of my tongue into her slit.

“Oh god oh god ohgodohgod” she called out, gnashing her teeth as her muscles clenched around my fingers. “Fuck me. Fuck me right now. Please, I need your cock in me now!!” she cried out.

I moved up her body, and she wrapped her arms around my neck as I pressed down on her, pinning her to the bed. My cock was resting on her pussy, the base of the shaft pushed hard against her soft flesh. I kissed her again, and rolled over, pulling her with me so she was on my chest.

“Mmmm”, she said as she pushed herself up on her elbows, drawing her knees up either side of me until she was kneeling astride me, her tits just in front of my face. “Mine”, she mumbled, reaching between her lips and taking my cock in her hand. She ran it the length of her slit, breathing heavily, and pushed my cockhead against her opening…. and then dropped her hips down, forcing my thick shaft deep into her, engulfing me in her soft warmth. “Oooh…” she moaned, “feels soooo good” as she eased herself up and down on my cock, her plentiful juices already running down and dripping off my balls.

I pulled the other strap off her shoulder, and the top of her dress flopped down off her chest, exposing her tits. She began to roll her hips, settling down hard on me, and her pink satin slip pooled around my hips and navel, tickling my skin as we fucked. She leant forward, pushing her breasts into my face and as she began to build up speed I licked and sucked her nipples, flicking her hard little points of pinkness with each movement of her hips.

Our fucking became faster and more hungry, her riding me hard, taking every inch of my thick cock into her hungry cunt, bouncing up and down on me and forcing me deep inside her. My hands slipped under the crumpled pink silk and my thumb found the nub of her clit, and I rubbed and caressed it as she bounced up and down on my hips, causing her to cry out.

When her orgasm hit her, it rose in a swell, bulding up from small clenches of her muscles around my cock, to a shaking, shuddering that rolled through her whole body, culminating in spasm after spasm, twisting her spine and throwing her from side to side as she sat astride me. “Oh fuck! Yes”, she called out, as her juices flowed out over me, soaking me, and when the feeling of her cunt gripping my cock in hard little pulses became too much to bear, I burst into her, filling her with more of my hot sticky seed.

She slumped forward, collapsing on me like a dead weight, kissing my neck as I kissed her shoulders, running my hands over her naked back, and squeezing her bottom, causing her muscles to clench around my still-hard cock.

She rolled over onto her side, and propped her head on her elbow, looking wistfully at my sticky, half-firm manhood. “I love your cock”, she whispered in my ear, “and I loved giving myself up for your pleasure”.

She glanced at the book lying next to her on the bed, and then to the clock. “Shit. I’m supposed to be writing an English essay today. I should get started on it.”

And then she smiled, as her hand trailed down my chest towards my navel. “But what time did you say Jo was getting back……?”

 (Click here for Part 2)

HNT #20

Sihouette.

It’s an interesting one, because not many people post HNTs without actually being in the picture… (although recently Carnalis did a couple of shadow pics, stealing my idea. I’ve wanted to do a silhouette picture for ages, but I’ve not found the opportunity of being on my own for long enough to mess about with lights, cameras (let alone any action). It’s harder than you’d think (judge for yourselves…) to get the angle right and not too many other shadows in the way. This one I give myself 7/10, ‘could do better’ – it’s a bit blurry really, I need a more precise light source.

I’m getting much better at doing this on Thursdays. One day I might even bother linking to this Os bloke (whoever he is) and including the logo. Or perhaps not.

I Want #20

I want to bathe you.

You slip down down into the warm blue-green water, your wake sloshing behind your nape, and the waves rolling the length of the bath, washing little groups of bubbles up your chest and over your shoulders.

I want you to bend your knees, your head slipping under the surface, your hair swaying in the water like long fronds of kale washed by the tide. I want to run my fingers through the strands, separating them until you look like a flower, petals spread around your pretty face.

I want to take your hand as you push off the taps with your feet, steadying yourself as you slide up to sit, the water cascading off your shoulders and breasts, dripping off your nipples, streaming down your belly in little silvery rivulets, pooling on your navel and disappearing into the dark wet fuzz where the water laps between your thighs.

I want to work the shampoo into your locks, swirling and massaging it into a thick foam which oozes down your neck and forehead, forcing you to close your eyes and relax still further. I want to make circles and zigzags across your scalp with my fingertips, working the suds deep into the roots and speeding the bloodflow to your mind and through your body. I want to pile your soapy hair up on top of your head, caressing and twisting it in my fingers as the creamy lather drips down your spine.

I want to rinse you clean, warm sparking water running through your shining hair, all the while gazing at your naked body glistening with the wetness, thighs slightly parted, the swell of your mons half obscured by the tiny layer of disappearing bubbles on the water surface.

I want to lift you up, and wrap you in warm fluffy cotton towels, patting your body dry, touching you all over as I softly blot the water from your skin.

I want you to lay back on the bed, arms sprawled above your head, legs apart, and admire my work, drinking in your soft clean perfect nakedness as I strip off my own clothes, and prepare to devour you.